


i am the poison that taints your name in their mouths

by postfixrevolution



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Probably really OOC whoops, Pseudo-Incest, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Unrequited/Onesided Love, published pre-game release, semi-support form but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't fault him the suspicious eye he reserves for only her, but she also can't stop the stab of pain that plagues her at her would-be brother's harsh gaze.</p><p>or: Takumi is a little bitch and Kamui just wants to fit in. The probably-not-canonically-accurate supports.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am the poison that taints your name in their mouths

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, I actually haven't spoiled any major points in the game for myself yet. I peeked at the wiki pages a bit, I guess. Basically, all I based this fic on was
> 
> 1) My friend who has the game said Takumi was a little bitch that didn't trust you at first if you chose Hoshido. (the words "little bitch" are verbatim)  
> 2) The not-so-spoilery parts of the character bios on the FE:if wiki page.
> 
> So, everyone is probably, if not definitely, pretty out of character. Sorry. Also, here's a disclaimer. Plus, I want to thank my heaven-sent beta, [fledermauss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fledermauss). You're the best, ya nerd.
> 
> Update [8/26]: I just noticed that I posted a pre-rewrite version where Takumi was incorrectly labeled as older than Kamui, so that's been fixed. Takumi officially has a big sister complex now.

He watches her with piercing hazel eyes, gaze as sharp as the tips of the arrows he constantly fires. She has learned that, while his face is always set in that impassive, emotionless visage, there is a subtle frown pulling at his lips and a discrete downward curve of his brows whenever his eyes are on her. It pains her to think that her own brother, adopted though he may be, would view her so coldly, but she can’t blame him for his suspicion. Kamui does her best to smile as she always does, push herself to do everything she can for the Hoshidan army, and tumble exhaustedly into her tent each night, wondering what more she can do to prove her allegiance. 

With a firm resolve not to let Takumi’s harsh gaze perturb her, Kamui turns back to Silas, who is practicing drills with a practice lance before her. As if noticing her gaze on him, the boy glances her way, flashing her a brilliant smile. She returns the smile in kind, laughing when he winks exaggeratedly at her and runs the practice dummy through with his lance tip. As he tugs the weapon out of the poor dummy’s torso, Kamui stands up from her position atop the training grounds bench and arches her back, reaching her arms skyward and stretching. Her awareness of a pair of sharp eyes on her is pushed into the back of her mind as she selects two bamboo swords from the rack beside her. Silas shoots her a questioning look, but expertly catches the sword she tosses him nonetheless. 

“Is this a challenge?” he asks, grinning mischievously at her as he puts away his lance. Kamui mirrors his expression. 

“Only if you’ve improved since last we’ve sparred,” she teases, unable to suppress her giggle at the pained look he adopts, holding one hand over his heart. The smile stays comfortably on her face; since defecting to Hoshido, the boy has been one of her closest companions, as much as she was his. Fellow wolves in sheep's clothing, Kamui can’t help but think ruefully. Even if most of the camp trusts her and the blue haired boy, the sight of both once-Nohrian soldiers together is enough to draw even the briefest of curious glances. 

“Y’know, back when we were children,” he begins, shifting into a battle-ready stance. The cavalier holds his sword in one hand, much like he would on his mount, and stands with his armed side angled toward her. “I was the one who had to show you how to hold that sword. We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” 

Her smile adopts a more nostalgic light at his words. “And yet, we still haven’t had that picnic you promised me,” she remarks, meeting his stance with one of her own. She holds her sword at shoulder level in both hands, placing most of her weight on her back foot and preparing to lunge. 

“I got banned from seeing you last time we tried, so I’m not sure I want to know what might happen if I try again,” he laughs. 

“We’ll get the damned picnic is what’ll happen; I’m the princess and I’d have it no other way,” she responds primly. “Now, let’s cut the chatter. Loser has to pack the food!” 

“Oh, you are so on!” 

The banter is quickly cut off as Silas dashes forward, slashing at her torso with a broad swing of his sword. Kamui agilely jumps out of his reach, rushing towards him with a lunge as soon as her feet hit the ground. He parries her attack, redirecting her swordpoint to the left as he spins around her and catches her in the back with the pommel of his blade. She grunts at the impact, but doesn’t let the dull throb deter he as she deftly turns around, meeting his downward slash with the flat of her own blade. There is a satisfying clack as their wooden weapons collide, and one block turns into a back and forth volley of strikes and parries. 

Feint. Slash. Kamui bends backward below a wide slash of Silas’s sword, falling into a perfect arch before propelling herself into a backwards handspring and landing deftly on her feet. Silas barks an indignant laugh at the display. 

“Hey, that’s no fair!” he accuses, clashing his blade against hers once more. “I never had time to learn fancy tricks like that on a horse!” 

“Then maybe you should have gotten off the horse every so often,” she repartees, rushing toward him and dropping down in an attempt to drop kick her opponent off his feet. It’s a mix of luck and panic that allows Silas to leap over her offending sweep. He stumbles slightly upon landing, a misstep that Kamui uses to her advantage, rolling behind him and elbowing the back of his knees. The boy lands in the dirt with two dull thuds, and the girl is back on her feet with her sword point hovering right behind the nape of his neck. 

Breath still heaving from her latest stunt, she can’t keep the exhilarated grin off her face. “I like strawberries, by the way, so be sure to pack those,” she quips, sending him a wink of her own when he tilts his head to look back at her. She is about to lower her sword point when Silas quickly tucks himself into a clumsy forward roll, tumbling out of her range before jumping up to his feet and holding his sword back before him. 

“I never got off the horse because it was my only way to see you again,” he says, so simply and candidly that Kamui nearly gets a wooden blade to the shoulder, barely jumping out of the way as his sword point comes close enough for her to hear it whoosh through the air. Her heel catches on a rock as she lands, causing her to stumble backwards and weakening her attempt to block Silas’s next strike. She barely manages to raise her weapon in time before his collides against it, and she is shoved a few feet back by the impact. “And trust me; I don’t think I could forget how much you loved strawberries if I tried. It was all I packed that time,” he admits, a faraway look glazing over his verdant eyes. 

Kamui’s eyes widen, mouth opening to say something - the exact words, she's not sure of - but she is interrupted when Silas quickly shakes his head, blinking away the sadness and shooting her a sly smile. 

“Hey, Kamui, don’t look now, but little brother’s watching you from the sidelines right now,” he says lowly, and when she looks distractedly to the side, the boy charges forward and swiftly knocks the blade out of her slackened hands. Kamui’s crimson eyes fly back in time to see a wooden swordpoint held up to her nose. “Just kidding!” Silas chimes, an overly bright smile on his face. Before she has time to respond, he’s already ducking to the side and picking up her fallen sword, replacing them on the rack as she silently watches. As he slides the bamboo swords back where they belong, Kamui blinks rapidly to herself, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. When her childhood friend turns back around to face her, his smile is tinged with the slightest hint of melancholy. 

“I like blackberries, by the way,” he tells her simply, “Like the ones we used to-” 

“Pick from the courtyards back when we were kids?” she finishes, and he chuckles. 

“Yeah. I remember: Camilla would always yell at us for ruining her pristine gardens.” His gaze flickers away from hers for a moment, looking somewhere behind her, and Kamui absently wonders what has caught the boy’s eye before he speaks again. “As much as I’d like to keep speaking with you now, I actually wasn’t kidding about Prince Takumi watching us earlier,” Silas admits sheepishly. “It looks like he wants a word with you, so I’ll talk to you later!” 

Kamui turns around to find the archer in question walking toward her, and remembers to wish Silas a goodbye too late; the boy is already gone and Takumi is behind her, coming to a stop with his arms crossed and his lips set into a frown. The princess finds herself mentally preparing for the worst. 

“Figures that the squire boy would be the one who taught the little princess to fight,” he remarks, fixing her with his signature unimpressed look. “You two Nohrian runaways are perfect for each other.” 

She gasps in affront at the grey haired boy. “Say what you will about me, Takumi, but Silas is a brilliant knight and no squire. I’m sure he could best you in a fight any day.” 

“So you are conspiring against me and the rest of us,” he accuses, narrowing his hazel eyes. Kamui thinks that they fit him perfectly; they are the color of golden autumn leaves as they wither and die right before the winter. 

“Are you still going on about that?” she asks incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief. “We’re supposed to be siblings, yet you can’t even trust me as a fellow comrade, and our army can only suffer as a result. What do I have to do to earn your trust?” 

Takumi makes an unimpressed noise, leaning forward and scrutinizing her. Under his hawkish gaze, Kamui can feel every muscle in her stiffen, but she resolutely glares at him as he onces her over. She doesn’t realize she has been holding her breath until he leans out of her space and scoffs. The tail end of that scoff rustles her bangs against her forehead. 

“How about proof of where your loyalties lay?” he sniffs, “To your Nohrian knight pal, or to us.” He gives her no room to respond before turning on a heel and walking away. Kamui resists the urge to yell after him, things ranging from how much of a jerk he was to the bone-tiring extent to which she worked every day in this army. Kamui turns on her own heel, walking in the opposite direction of her supposed brother. If it was concrete proof he wanted, then that is what he will get. 

_Silas and Kamui have attained support level C._

_Takumi and Kamui have attained support level C._

* * *

Takumi looks up from his stew as a flash of black and white sits down across from him. His dying autumn eyes narrow as Kamui fixes him with a no-nonsense stare. Her chin is tilted regally and her posture is impeccable. He glares at her for a few moments before returning wordlessly to his dinner. 

“Hey,” she finally blurts, leaning across the table to steal his napkin and throw it at him. “Are you not going to ask why I'm here?” He looks up to scowl at her. 

“I'm eating,” he deadpans, proceeding to pointedly fix his gaze on his food and chew each bite fifteen times. He hears her sigh frustratedly and can practically _feel_ her roll her crimson eyes. He, however, can't stop her as she reaches across the table and swiftly snatches his steamed bean bun and takes a defiant bite out of it. With a snarl, he leans over to attempt to take it back, only to have her hold it out of his reach. She swallows the bite of her stolen sweet and grins smugly at him. 

“I'm helping you finish so we can talk,” she sniffs at him. “We're the only ones left in the mess hall because of your ridiculously thorough eating habits and I have no desire to wait any longer.” She takes another bite out of his dessert and he scowls, swiftly leaping over the tabletop and grabbing the pastry back. The force of his tackle has her tumbling backwards off of the bench, and Takumi follows soon after, landing on Kamui's stomach with a strangled _oomph!_ from the crushed girl. Her feet are still propped up on the wooden bench, but Takumi remains adamantly seated atop her torso. He bites the bean pastry and chews it thoughtfully, savoring the sweet filling inside. The squirming girl beneath him is pointedly ignored. 

“Takumi, little brother or not, I will have your skin for this if you don't get off me right now,” she warns, pounding her fist against his knee. He hums distractedly in response, deftly grabbing her offending hand by the wrist and holding it still. When she starts punching him with the opposite hand, he catches it with his foot and pins it to the ground. 

“Your death threats toward me don't help prove your loyalties to Hoshido,” he snipes between bites, and Kamui glares daggers at him. She tries to sit up, only to find that the younger boy was heavier than she expected. 

“Get off,” she commands, glaring at him as he continues staring forward at the wall and eating his food. “Takumi,” she snaps, and he sighs. 

“If you must speak to me, do it now. I might consider listening,” he responds distractedly, and it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to start squirming violently and attempting to punch him again. Kamui exhales a deep breath out of her mouth and inhales deeply through her nose. 

“I was hoping we could fight side by side in tomorrow’s battle,” she mutters, eyes pointedly averted. “It might prove difficult alone, and I am intent on proving my loyalty to Hoshido, even if _you_ are one of the only few that still doubt me.” 

He doesn’t respond for the longest time; Kamui stares at him as he patiently finishes the rest of his bean bun. She counts the number of times he chews each bite - fifteen exactly - and vaguely remembers Leo, who would eat his food painfully slowly, but nowhere near as painstakingly as Takumi. Her stomach churns at the thought of Nohr, and she forces away the images, coughing loudly in an attempt to catch her adopted brother’s attention. He affords her a sidelong glance. 

“Well?” she asks, raising an impatient eyebrow. He pops the last part of his dessert into his mouth, and Kamui counts each of the fifteen movements of his jaw, follows the curve of his neck as he swallows. His skin is tanner than hers, she notices, the climate in Hoshido much more generous in sunshine than that of her previous home. He releases her hands as her stomach twists again at the thought of Nohr, and the sudden absence of heat is just another aching reminder of chilly winters and her old home. Takumi has never been more Hoshido than when his skin was the searing summer sun on her pale, Nohrian flesh. 

“I’ll be watching you,” he says as he stands up, shooting her a warning look before turning around and walking away. Kamui lies sprawled out on the ground for a moment more before pulling herself up. Outside the mess hall, the air is a temperate cool, and she can’t place why she shivers. 

_Takumi’s and Kamui’s relationship improved._

* * *

“What was _that_?” Takumi snarls, throwing his quiver down on the wooden table. The weapons tent is empty save for them, and the boy angrily paces along the table's length. His quiver clatters hollowly, the arrows spilling out and rolling across the rough surface. Kamui catches one as it threatens to fall to the ground, gripping the thin shaft so hard, it feels like the supple wood could snap in her fingers. 

“ _What was that?_ “ she echoes incredulously, slamming the arrow into the table with a palm-stinging yet satisfying smack. “That was _me_ saving _your_ useless, good-for-nothing-except-rearguard-shooting skin!” 

He glares daggers at her as he skids to a stop and pulls his bow from off from its position around his shoulder, slamming it on the table with equal force. The wood of the bow's slender curve hits against her knuckles, sending a painful shock across the bones. She hisses softly in pain, whipping her hand back to her chest and cradling it, and Takumi only scoffs. 

“You used my back as a springboard!” he growls, narrowing hazel eyes at her. She eyes the bandages wrapped around his cut and scraped palms and almost, but not completely, feels sorry. “How did you even think of such a ridiculous move?” 

“I saw Kagerou and Saizou practicing it the other day,” she sniffs defensively, crossing her arms. “And it got the enemy flier down before your skin was shocked clean off, did it not?” she retorts, matching his glare. “I know you're terrible with words, but a simple thanks would suffice, Takumi.” 

“I could have been left with a concussion if I didn't think quickly enough to right myself before you had my head split open upon the earth,” he snaps. 

“We both know that's a lie,” she sniffs, turning her nose up at him primly. “You practice your martial arts enough to know how to not bruise your backside falling, don't you?” 

“And where are _you_ practicing these tricks?” he accuses, pointing a finger at her. “It was probably just luck that I wasn't significantly injured by your amateur stunt!” 

“As if you don't stalk me and my ex-Nohrian pals enough to know where I practice,” she retorts moodily. “Since a good lot of you are still wary of Silas, I'm one of the few that he can spar with, so he's been the one that's helped me practice.” 

Takumi's scowl grows deeper at the mention of the blue haired boy. “I don't like you two spending so much time around each other,” he mutters sourly, a remark to which Kamui gasps in affront. 

“And what right do you have to say that? It's not as if you ever treated me like a sister that you could be a brother to,” she grounds out, ignoring the twist of her stomach at the mention of their supposed relationship. He was more a coldhearted handler than anything. “Or are you just scared that Silas and I are secretly plotting to put worms in your porridge and hide all your precious arrows?” 

“How childish,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes before reaffixing his sharp hazel gaze on her. “And perhaps if you weren't so attached by the hip to the boy, people would stop treating him like some enemy messenger.” 

“So it's my fault now? For trying not to make him feel alone? Because I've been doing the opposite unknowingly to him for most of our lives and it isn't a mistake I want to repeat.” Kamui grimaces, turning her back to Takumi and glaring at the wall. “It's not my fault that you're too closed-minded to see the difference between friendship and an alliance trying to overthrow Hoshido,” she grounds out. 

He grabs her by the shoulder, spinning her to face him with a curt, “Then maybe you should establish a healthy distance between you two, so people can see the difference.” 

She promptly shakes his hand off of her, tilting her head up to shoot him her harshest glare. It's unfair that her younger brother is so tall, and she wants to resists the urge to drive him two feet into the dirt. “I'll have no part in your passive-aggressive overprotective brother facade,” she spits, shouldering him harshly as she walks toward the tent entrance. Kamui pauses as she reaches the flap, one hand holding the fabric open as she turns around to face Takumi once more. “I've been doing all I can for this army, and you've been nothing short of cruel. I guess I've been lying to myself. You are no comrade of mine, no prince of mine, and especially no brother of mine.” 

She steps out of the tent before tossing one last remark over her shoulder at the grey haired boy. “And Silas is a _much_ better springboard than you.” 

Takumi watches her stalk away and grits his teeth, ignoring the painful feeling of his nails pressing into his bandaged palms and how his arms shake slightly from how tightly he squeezes his fists. 

_Takumi and Kamui have attained support level B._

* * *

Kamui falls backwards into the grassy field with a sigh. Just above her head, Silas sits with his legs folded, absently pulling up grass and sprinkling it across her face. She can't hold back a giggle as the roughage tickles her cheeks, but shakes her head furiously to dislodge the grass and reaches her hands up to wrap around his. He stops his absent ministrations and looks at her curiously. 

“Enough with the grass, Silas. You'll leave the field barren at this rate,” she chuckles, freeing his hands from her grip. His skin is pale, but not as much as hers, the smooth surface of his skin showing up a few shades darker in the midday sun. His hands linger a moment too long in hers before he pulls them back, flashing her an adorably guilty smile and leaning back on his palms. 

He stares up at the sky and asks her distractedly, “Do you have any dreams, Kamui?” 

She starts at his question, eyebrows creased in thought as she considers it. Folding her hands behind her head, Kamui tilts her head all the way back, until she can see Silas's face. 

“I do,” she answers eventually. “I want peace for Hoshido and for Nohr. And I want to be a worthy princess for my people.” 

He chuckles, eyes fluttering down from the sky to her. “A far cry from your childhood dreams,” he notes. “What was it you wanted to be again? A strawberry fairy?” 

She pales at the thought, unfolding her arms from behind her head to cover her face behind her hands. “You _would_ remember that,” she bemoans in embarrassment, and Silas laughs again. It's a pleasant sound, making her feel warm and safe. 

“I thought it was cute,” he tells her, gently easing her hands off her face. She meets his verdant eyes, and there is an intensity in them that she doesn't recognize. The sight makes her pull her hands out of his, bolting into a sitting position. When she readjusts to sit facing him once again, the expression is gone. He looks the slightest bit dejected, and Kamui feels her stomach roll uncomfortably. 

“I also want to be accepted by my family,” she says smally. Kamui mirrors Silas's previous position, leaning back on her palms and staring up at the sky. She can feel his eyes on her at the statement, but resolves not to meet them. In the distance, a mass of clouds gathers. The grey tone of them is hauntingly familiar. “By all of them, not just most of them.” 

When Silas lets out a boyish giggle, she is broken from her reverie, crimson eyes flickering down to meet his verdant green ones. There is a sly smirk on his lips and a lively spark in his eyes, making her question if she had really seen the dejection of earlier. 

“What?” she asks hesitantly, narrowing her eyes as his wicked smile grows. 

“Is little brother Takumi still giving his precious Kamui trouble?” he teases, snorting when her face heats up and she grimaces. 

“Don't even say his name around me,” she sighs, unable to bite back a disgusted groan. “He didn't even thank me for saving his life the other day.” 

Silas shrugs. “I'm sure he doesn't hate you,” he says simply, to which she snorts in a very un-princess-like fashion. 

“Oh, he doesn't hate _me_ ,” she begins, rolling her eyes. “He hates me _and_ you. He even had the nerve to try and accuse us of being an enemy spy duo, and then telling me to stop being around you, like some misguided, overprotective brother. It was disgusting.” Silas raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Sounds more like a jilted lover to me,” he laughs, and Kamui feels a pool of dread freeze over in her stomach at the way her chest tightens. 

“He's my brother!” she exclaims, and Silas holds two hands up in surrender, still laughing quietly to himself. She glares at him for a moment, but finds herself unable to hold it for long in the face of his brilliant grin. Eventually, she relents, asking,” How about you, then? What dreams do you have?” 

“Well, for the longest time, I just wanted to see you smile again,” he admits, the lightest of pinks dusting his cheeks. “But now, I think I just want what you want: for this war to end peacefully for both sides. Afterwards, who knows what will happen. Maybe I'll travel the world. I want to see more places as different as Hoshido.” 

She closes her eyes, trying to imagine her childhood friend roaming the entire world on horseback. It brings a small smile to her lips. 

“Maybe I'll go with you. I'd love to see the world,” she tells him. 

“I don't know if you could,” he says, and when her eyes fly open, she can't even see his. He leans back on his hands and tilts his head up to the clouds. “There's too much that’ll want to keep you here, Kamui, and I couldn't even think of touching it.” 

She can't help the confused crease of her brows as she stares at his strangely blank face, and they sit there in silence until the clouds roll in and the sun blots out. 

_Kamui's and Silas's relationship improved._

* * *

Sakura gasps, a wet shine already beginning to glaze over her eyes. Takumi can’t hold back his grimace, biting guiltily on the inside of his cheek as he holds his palms out for the healer to see. 

“Takumi, what did you do?” she asks, worry infusing her voice, and he sighs, choosing not to respond. He is about to curl his fingers inward, pull his hands back, but Sakura’s grip on his wrists is surprisingly strong. She holds onto him until he finally gives up on trying to drag his hands back, hide them shamefully beneath his fur wrap. Her fingers are gentle as she traces the angry red half crescents that mar his palms, right below the slowly healing cuts and scrapes from today’s earlier fall. When she looks up to meet his eye, the look in them is so sad that he feels himself mentally crumble. 

“I may have gotten… excessively wound up over something,” he grounds out, lips falling into a frown. It borders on a childish pout, but Sakura does not point that out to him. She simply sighs, curling his fingers softly over his palms. 

“Why does this happen every time you and Sister are in the same space?” Sakura mutters dejectedly, walking around the medical tent to pull out fresh bandages and salve. He hums absently at her, not too sure how to answer the girl himself. “You know, she came in here a few days ago for a light bruise on her back.” 

“Oh, did she?” he mutters half-interestedly, mainly focusing on the drawers that Sakura opens and the items she fishes out. “What clumsy mishap did that girl stumble into that time?” 

“Our _sister_ ,” Sakura begins patiently, putting a none too subtle emphasis on the term of endearment, “told me that you tackled her roughly to the floor and sat on her for hours with your big, fat butt. Oh, but she said it with words that she told me I’m not allowed to repeat.” 

Takumi chokes out a strangled cough at her last statement. “Kamui told you _what_?” he demands incredulously, bolting up from his seat. Sakura finds herself unable to restrain a giggle at his wide-eyed shock. 

“It’s mine and Big Sister’s little secret,” she tells him impishly. Takumi’s eye twitches slightly as he sits back down, and she smiles to herself. It wasn’t often that Takumi would let things affect him so dynamically, and she holds each instance fondly in her memory. As he _hmph_ s himself into his own world, nose turned up pointedly away from her, Sakura makes quick work of his palms, rubbing a fresh layer of salve over both his old and new injuries. She can tell Takumi watches her from the corner of his eyes; as much as he adamantly clung to his bow, his ineffable fascination with medicine was one thing they could always bond over. 

Finally, Sakura ties off his bandages with a flourish. “Okay, all done, Big Brother!” she chimes, giving him a wide smile. He makes a show of examining her work, lips still set in that petulant pout. Once he finishes, he stands up. 

“I _suppose_ that’s good enough,” he drawls, and Sakura notes the way his downturned lips threaten to stretch into a smile. She adopts a pout of her own. 

“Only good enough?” she echoes, sighing dejectedly and bowing her head. She hears Takumi stifle a giggle, and a small laugh of her own bubbles past her lips. Suddenly, she’s weightless, being lifted into the air and sat atop her brother’s shoulder; she shouts at first, but the yelling quickly dissolves into delighted giggles as he deftly spins her around. 

“I lied,” he tells her simply, “Your work is always perfect, Little Sister.” She laughs, exhaling a giddy thanks as he slows his twirling and deposits her carefully onto the cot. He takes the seat beside it, a faint smile still on his face. She leans over and pokes him on the cheek. 

“You should smile like this more, Big Brother,” Sakura states innocently, a giddy grin still on her own face. Takumi exhales a soft chuckle, softly swatting her offending finger away. “I’m serious! Big Sister Kamui might even like you more if you do; you’re very handsome when you smile,” she insists sagely. 

At her remark, what soft smile he had slips immediately off his face. With his lips pressed into a thin line, he stands up, curtly thanking her for helping with his palms and saying he was going to retire for the night. As he turns on his heel to head out, Sakura catches him by the wrist. 

“Takumi,” she begins seriously, worrying at her bottom lip, “wait.” The muscles under his skin are tense, but she holds on resolutely, refusing to ease her grip. She doesn’t count the seconds, but eventually, Takumi sighs, relaxing and falling back into the chair beside her. She smiles warmly at him. 

“Someday,” he sighs, shaking his head, “you’re going to tell me to wait, and I will regret the fact that I can’t deny you.” 

A soft giggle bubbles past her lips. “Thank you for staying, though,” she adds, and Takumi ruffles her hair. 

“Of course,” he responds, the hint of a smile beginning to pull at his lips anew. “Now let me guess, you want to talk about me and Big Sister, don’t you?” Sakura nods sheepishly, and Takumi can’t help the heavy sigh that tumbles out of his mouth. He leans back into his chair, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me, Little Sister.” 

“Kamui told me the same thing about you,” Sakura giggles. “ _He’s going to be the death of me, Little Sis! It’s either going to be him killing me, or me getting lynched for killing him!_ “ she regales in her best impression of Kamui; Takumi has to open his eyes to make sure it was still Sakura there, her impression being so scarily spot-on. True to his memory, the little redhead is still sitting atop the cot, swinging her legs cheerily as she laughs fondly at the memory of her older sister. “I guess she isn’t exaggerating much, though; the bruise on her back was huge!” 

Takumi’s stomach twists at the comment, and a pained expression flashes across his face. Sakura must have noticed, because she immediately follows up with a rushed, “Oh, but Big Sister bruises _really_ easily. Don’t worry too much; it’ll heal really quickly!” 

He forces a scoff. “I wasn’t worried,” he sniffs. 

"Ooh, are your cheeks red, Big Brother?” Sakura asks cheerily, and Takumi grimaces, the pained look on his face staying for longer than a brief second. His little sister giggles, tacking on something that sounded dangerously close to, “I bet Kamui would agree that you’re very cute when you’re blushing, too!”, and causing Takumi to groan uncomfortably. Even if his face isn't a brilliant red, the dropping sensation in his stomach and the momentary tightening in his chest are not welcome reactions. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough pointless gossip for tonight, Sakura,” he asserts, standing up and trying to sound authoritative. “I’m going to sleep, and you better sleep soon, too.” 

Sakura nods, promising that she would head back to her tent after cleaning up around the infirmary. “Good night, Takumi!” she calls after him as he exits the tent, and he mutters an appropriate response. As soon as the tent flap falls closed behind him, he brings tentative fingers up to his cheeks. 

“ _Damn_ ,” Takumi curses under his breath, dropping the hand down and stalking off toward his tent. His cheeks were really warm. 

_Sakura and Takumi have attained support rank C._

* * *

Takumi and Kamui sit next to each other uncomfortably on the same infirmary bed. Kamui is painfully aware of his upper arm pressing against hers, and Takumi tries to ignore the acute flutter of her unruly hair against the exposed skin of his shoulder. Around them, the entire infirmary is filled with the many people left unconscious as a result of the day's battle. No one was seriously hurt, but the enemy had a troublesome brigade of dark mages with annoyingly powerful sleeping hexes. A majority of the people here are asleep and under healer supervision until they wake up. The two royal children, along with a small handful of unfortunate others, were there for bloodier reasons. 

Kamui shifts, trying to scoot away from the divot along the side of the mattress that they keep falling into. The effort causes her to wince sharply, one hand flying up to her opposite arm. She brushes the bandages encircling her bicep. When she feels assured that no fresh blood is seeping from the recently healed laceration, she sighs in relief and resolves not to attempt moving again. Takumi's arm no longer touches hers, but she can feel the heat radiating off his bare skin. 

The boy has bandages wrapping around the upper left part of his chest and shoulder, the result of a nasty Fire tome. His long sleeved top has been switched with a looser, sleeveless one for his stay in the infirmary, and Kamui has never noticed how slender his arms are. They aren't anywhere near as muscled as Ryouma's, nor are they clearly defined like Hinoka's; he is somewhere between lean and gangly and it fits him perfectly. 

As they watch healers flit back and forth between stations, the two sit in silence. Kamui cradles her injured arm, gently swinging her feet as she sweeps her eyes over the sleeping soldiers. She knows Silas was here earlier, but the boy had looked uninjured. He just asked one of the healers for something and left quietly with a bottle of salve in his palms. He didn’t look her way during the entire exchange, and the princess wonders if he had seen her at all. She watched the boy go with a small frown on her lips until a quiet scoff interrupted her; at that, she broke from her reverie and punched Takumi on the arm. It was right below his injury and he hissed painfully, proceeding to ignore her presence. 

The prince still refuses to acknowledge her, even as she begins to swing her feet more rapidly, shaking the infirmary bed as she does so. His hazel eyes intently follow one priestess as she uses her staff to help a soldier unfortunate to receive an arrow clean through his palm. Subaki was his name, if Kamui remembers correctly. It’s a shame that he’d been shot there of all places; the effeminate man had unfairly nice hands. She casts a sidelong glance at Takumi’s hands; they are folded in his lap, and she can’t stop herself from reaching out and poking his slender fingers. Takumi flinches, turning his head to glare at her. 

“Do you ever wonder what if would be like to use a healing staff?” she asks. His jaw twitches, and Kamui smirks. “You’ve the right arms to be a healer,” she adds wickedly, prodding at his thin limbs. “They’re like limp noodles.” 

Takumi scoffs, as he is wont to do, and sniffs at her. “And what about your arms?” he retorts, dragging her own limb up by the wrist. The pads of his fingers are hot against her skin. “How you hold that sword of yours up without shaking escapes me.” He drops her wrist, and her arm falls back to her side. She gasps as the injured portion is jostled a mite too hard, and the corner of Takumi’s lips twitches downward. 

“How is the injury?” he asks suddenly, expertly changing the subject. Her fingers ghost across the cloth bandage again. 

“It’ll heal quickly,” she states. “And what of yours?” 

“It’s nothing,” he says simply. 

“Was it, though?” she presses, narrowing her eyes at him. His hazel orbs are still entranced by the machinations of the busy healers across the tent. “You looked ready to pass out, and I was surprised you didn’t scream when Sakura had to peel your shirt off the burnt flesh.” 

“It was nothing,” he insists again, and Kamui studies his profile for a good minute. He’s not exactly scowling, but his lips have a natural curve to them, making it seem as though he is constantly frowning. While his eyes have a tired sort of downward tilt to them, his dying autumn colored eyes are sharp and hawkish, the mark of a seasoned archer. 

“I _am_ a dragon, you know,” she says lightly. “There was no need to jump in front of a fire for my sake. Burns are nothing new to me. Not as bad as cuts, at least,” she tacks on with a grimace. 

His eyes flicker away from the healers, giving her a sidelong once over. She can tell he is staring at the bandage on her arm. Takumi shifts slightly on the infirmary bed, a movement that causes her to slip back into the divot of the mattress until their thighs rest against each other. He’s warm, like the Hoshido sun on her skin. 

“And there was no need for you to block a sword strike for me when you were only half prepared to do so,” he responds in a similar tone. “It isn’t like I can’t protect myself.” His slender fingers reach up to brush against her bandaged arm, and Kamui’s heart stops. 

“But it’s what a fellow comrade would do, right?” she asks, shrugging casually. There is a minute tremor in her voice, one that belies her false lightness. “I’d like to think it’s what family would do for each other, too,” she adds softly. 

Takumi grits his teeth, his hand falling back to his lap as he stares forward. The healers have finished helping Subaki and have moved on elsewhere. He stares at the canvas wall of the tent for an extended period of time, and Kamui deflates beside him, leaning back on her uninjured arm and sighing. She doesn’t expect him to answer, really, so she traces images of horses and flying arrows on the blank tent canvas. When Takumi finally speaks up again, his voice is low and Kamui has to lean closer to hear. 

“I may have… _misjudged_ you, Kamui,” he admits hesitantly, a frown twisting his features as he does so. Were it not for the seriousness of his words, the white haired girl would have snorted at his uncomfortable expression. “You’ve been doing immense things for this army since you’ve arrived, and I was a little too blinded by suspicion to notice it clearly.” 

“A little?” she echoes, unable to contain her snort. He narrows his eyes at her. 

“A little,” he confirms primly, and Kamui silently shakes her head, letting the boy believe himself. “I suppose anyone who is willing to risk serious injury to herself for the sake of another can be considered a worthy and loyal comrade.” 

She blinks at first, still processing the boy’s words; as they sink in, she can’t help the smile that stretches across her face. Her comrade watches her from the corner of his eye, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at his thin lips, and Kamui nudges him gently. 

“So,” she begins, stretching out the vowel sound. He raises a quizzical eyebrow at her, and the girl’s smile grows into a smirk. “Does this mean I can call you Little Brother Takumi now?” 

Takumi’s face floods an interesting shade of scarlet as he goes into a coughing fit, one Kamui mirrors with a hysterical cackling fit. Both fits end with them grimacing and pressing careful fingers against their bandaged injuries, and Kamui can’t help but regard her companion warmly out of the corner of her eye; his cheeks are still tinted with a fading pink. 

_Takumi and Kamui have attained support rank A._

* * *

Hinoka leans her head on her hands as she watches Kamui trudge into the barracks tent and collapse into a chair across the table. The white haired girl is oblivious to her presence at first, exhaling a long sigh and running fingers through her bangs. When the redhead speaks up, she starts, whipping her head in Hinoka’s direction. 

“Long day?” she asks her younger sister. Kamui grins weakly in return, sighing again. 

“That's one way of putting it,” the girl laughs, and Hinoka raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah? I spent most of yesterday sleeping my ass off because of some dumb hex,” she reminds her sister. “Try me.” 

Kamui’s grin adopts a fonder light, and she nods at Hinoka, adjusting herself so she can lean her elbows on the table. Hinoka notices the bandage wrapped around the other girl’s bicep, peeking out from under the loose tunic sleeves she wears. She doesn’t remember her being injured, but it wasn’t as if she was awake to know in the first place. A stab of disappointment at her obliviousness twinges in her stomach, never mind that Kamui’s usual armor covers most of her bicep. 

“Sakura began my day by warning me not to do anything that might irritate my injury,” Kamui begins, “so after going for a run and kicking a pebble around the entire camp twice, I was kind of at a loss at what to do. There surprisingly isn’t much I can do around here that isn’t potentially harmful.” 

“We’re in the army, Little Sister,” Hinoka points out helpfully. Kamui pokes her tongue out at her, and she chuckles softly in response. 

“Okay, Infallible and All Knowing Big Sister Hinoka,” the younger girl snipes, an adorable pout on her face. “Now, let me continue my story. There were an _un_ surprisingly limited amount of safe activities for me to partake in, and as I was walking around camp, I saw Takumi come out of the infirmary, looking as sour as always.” 

Hinoka blinks in surprise. While it wasn’t surprising that Kamui would have some rant concerning their grey haired brother, she swears that she had seen Takumi off in the distance on the battlefield earlier that day. The blue of his armor was hardly a rare shade amongst their ranks, but a small frown still forms on her face. “Was Takumi injured yesterday?” she asks. Kamui stares at her a moment before gasping. 

“Oh!” she exclaims. “Of course; you were out yesterday. Right. I forget sometimes.” 

“It’s fine,” Hinoka waves off. “And what of our brother?” 

Kamui frowns. “He was hit by a bad Fire tome on the shoulder. It’ll be a day or two more before he can stretch the skin enough to use his bow again.” 

Hinoka winces slightly at the thought. “Poor Little Brother,” she mutters, and Kamui nods in agreement. 

“He didn’t have to take that blow for me,” she sighs. “I’ve had enough burns in my life to be able to handle one more. That’s how my arm got so badly cut, as well,” she adds. “After Takumi fell, I jumped in front of him to stop an incoming swordsman, and my form was messy; my block fell short and he got a good slash in at my arm before Big Brother Ryouma had to slice him down from behind.” Kamui’s brows are creased and a pained look mars her features. Hinoka reaches a tentative hand out and pats her lightly on the head. Crimson eyes fly upward to meet hers. 

“It’s not your fault, Little Sister,” Hinoka reassures her, attempting a small smile. “Besides, I know Takumi, and I know he wouldn’t take a blow for anyone unless they really meant a lot to him.” 

Kamui’s eyes widen comically and she mentally curses as she feels her cheeks heat up at Hinoka’s innocent comment. She chastises herself at the notion that her older sister might have meant anything besides the most familial of meanings. Swallowing down the heartbeat in her throat, she shakes her head to clear it, ignoring a pair of curious ochre eyes on her as she does so. 

“Are you okay, Kamui?” Hinoka asks carefully, shyly pulling her hand back. 

“I’m fine!” Kamui insists, flashing her a brilliant smile. Hinoka frowns almost imperceptibly, tilting her head to the side and scrutinizing her sister, but just as easily lets it go. The white haired girl bites back a sigh of relief. 

“So, you were telling me about your day,” Hinoka insists. “What happened after you bumped into our dear brother outside the infirmary?” 

“Oh,” she squeaks smally, praying to whatever gods will hear her that her face isn’t a flushed pink again. “Well, he, uh… He made me go to the archery range with him. In traditional Takumi fashion, he wouldn’t take no as an answer.” 

“I thought you said he couldn’t use a bow in his condition,” Hinoka points out. A more prominent frown pulls down at her face. “I swear, if that little brother of mine is going around hurting himself immediately after sustaining an injury, I’m going to have some _very_ stern words with him!” 

Kamui waves her hands placatingly. “No, Takumi wasn’t shooting. I was.” 

Hinoka stares at her for a moment before something extremely strange happens. The redhead giggles, a surprisingly girlish sound, covering her mouth behind a wall of fingers. Any amount of affront Kamui might be able to muster in the face of her sister’s amusement never makes it past her lips; instead, she finds herself watching the older girl fondly until her giggles subside, a smile still evident on her face as the laughter fades. 

“I’m sorry, Little Sister,” she hiccups, one hand still lingering in front of her mouth. “I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just-” Snicker. “I never pictured you as the archer type.” 

Kamui pouts again, crossing her arms before her sister, and Hinoka reaches over to lightly tap her on the head. 

“I meant no offense,” she says again, and watches warmly as the girl sighs, slowly uncrossing her arms. “Just because I said I couldn’t picture it doesn’t mean I think you’ve no talent for it. Now tell me, Little Sis, how many bullseyes did you hit and how jealous was Little Brother?” 

“You weren’t wrong to say I’m not the archer type,” Kamui admits with a self-deprecating snort. “I almost hit Subaki, which is terrible considering how he was just in the infirmary for an arrow through his hand yesterday!” Kamui scowls at the recollection of her horrible archery skills, as well as the image of the poor man sitting on the infirmary bed as a healer fearlessly snapped the arrow embedded in his palms and wrenched it out. Her yelled apology across the grounds might not have been enough, and she errantly wonders what else she can do to make up for terrorizing him with her bad aim. 

“And you say Takumi brought you to the range? I wonder what his reaction to your nearly accidental murder case was.” 

“For some reason, I think he was expecting it,” she replies uneasily. “Rolled his eyes, true to form as ever, and then jumped on the chance to criticize my stance.” 

“Unsurprising,” the older girl agrees with a diplomatic nod. “I trust you didn’t stay there for too long then, yeah?” 

“Actually, we did. After another disastrous attempt, I think he snapped,” Kamui recollects with an amused snicker. “He spent the next hour standing right behind me, hissing instructions at me as I tried to aim. Takumi probably would have been shoving and poking me relentlessly into the correct form if I hadn’t kept reminding him how disappointed Sakura would be if she saw him attempting to do anything remotely stressful!” 

“So did you ever manage to hit the target?” Hinoka asks curiously. “Will we have another master archer in the family in our near future?” 

“I did… Once,” Kamui admits, biting at her lower lip. Her crimson eyes are pointed away from those of her sister, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice. 

“That’s a good start,” she notes supportively. “I’m sure you can improve with practice.” 

Kamui nods silently, chewing at her bottom lip for a good minute before blurting a rushed, “Takumi had to hold the bow in my hands and guide me through it.” She feels her face heat up at the remembrance of his body pressed against her back and him muttering advice against her ear as he pulled her hands through the motions. He was warm - almost unbearably so - and his muttered words against the shell of her ear made it hard to hold the bow steady. With a pained groan, she buries her face in her hands, painfully aware of Hinoka watching her in concern. 

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help, Kamui,” the confused girl offers weakly. “It’s nice to hear of my younger siblings getting along so closely. I’m sure your little brother would be willing to do it again if you asked.” The younger girl starts coughing violently at that; both girls bolt up at the same time, Kamui panickedly saying she needed to go to sleep and Hinoka asking if she needed to fetch a healer. 

“Kamui, wait!” Hinoka calls after her fleeing sister, bursting out of the barracks tent after her. By the time she throws the tent flap open, the white haired girl is out of sight and Hinoka is standing in front of the entrance with a puzzled frown. “I hope she’s feeling well,” she mutters to herself. 

_Kamui and Hinoka have attained support rank C._

* * *

“Oh. Little Brother. It’s just you.” 

Takumi sleepily opens one eye, only to be met with a blurry red blob. He forces his other eye open, rubbing the last bleary remnants of sleep away from them and blinking. Ryouma stares down at him as Takumi stretches against the soft grass beneath him, yawning. 

“Yes, it’s me,” he deadpans, sitting up and looking up at the older man. “What did you want?” 

“I almost tripped over you. There are better places to entertain a nap than on the ground, you know.” 

With a silent roll of his eyes, Takumi falls onto his back again, staring up at the sky. The clouds are a pure, flawless white, and he is reminded of crimson eyes and a slender back fitting so terrifyingly perfectly against him. He shakes his head slightly, banishing the thought. 

“I am well aware, Big Brother,” Takumi responds testily. With a deep breath, he braces his palms on the ground above his head and leaps up, landing gracefully on his feet. He winces slightly at the strain he just put on his shoulder, but decides that he would avoid mentioning this to Sakura. “I’m no longer napping anyway, so you can go about doing whatever you were doing before this.” 

Ryouma doesn’t stop staring at him. 

“Alright, I won’t nap on the ground anymore,” Takumi tells him, eying his brother warily as he brushes strands of grass off of his clothes. “That’s what you wanted to hear, right?” 

Ryouma blinks. “Huh? Oh, no; your napping habits are fine, Brother. I’ve just never seen you sleep during the day before. Is something the matter?” 

“Aside from the fact that my shoulder won't heal any faster so I can return to my archery,” Takumi begins contemplatively, “no.” 

“Ah,” Ryouma acknowledges, nodding curtly. Then, a small frown pulls at his lips, his brows creasing downward. “Wait, were you not at the practice range yesterday? I thought I saw you with Little Sister Kamui. It's pleasant seeing you two get along, by the way.” 

Takumi grimaces. “Yeah, getting along,” he echoes, the thought of winter-white hair brushing against his cheek making him swallow thickly. The memory is hard to shake off: the scent of fresh morning dew clings to her like a stubborn fog, tinted with the ineffable scent of magic, more ancient and heady than any tome he’d ever known. If it weren’t for how she shouted after hitting the target that one time, Takumi isn’t sure if he could have let her go. 

“Little Brother,” the older man says, breaking the grey haired boy from his reverie. He raises an expectant eyebrow at him. “I know that this war puts its weight upon all of us, but if there is anything I can do as an older sibling to help, you must let me know.” 

The words are stiff and formal as any that the man speaks, but the content makes Takumi unable to bite back an amused scoff. Ryouma may be the leader of the entire Hoshidan force, but he was near hopeless when it came to being laid back among friends and family alike. Takumi can recall simpler times, when Sakura had begged her oldest brother to let her braid his hair since Hinoka’s was too short; Ryouma had sat cross legged on the floor with his back ramrod straight as the little girl did so. It was a ridiculous sight, and the hazel-eyed boy still snickers at it to this day. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells his brother. 

“Ah, and before I forget,” Ryouma adds, “Can you find Hinoka and tell her she has kitchen duty this evening? I have a meeting I must be off to.” 

Takumi hums absently in agreement, nodding his head at the man. Ryouma turns in the direction of the camp, proceeding to walk off before Takumi calls after him, “Big Brother, wait.” Ryouma turns around and regards him curiously. 

“New arrows,” Takumi tells him simply. It’s not a smile that passes his brother’s face, but it’s as close as the older man can get. He nods resolutely at his younger brother and walks off. 

_Ryouma and Takumi’s relationship improved._

* * *

The first thing Takumi does after returning from the day’s battle is pull himself up the ladder of Kamui’s treehouse. An admittedly worrying injury from the wrong side of a lance a few days ago had left the girl out of commission, and Takumi can’t help but feel uncomfortably responsible when he recalls how Kamui had pushed him out of the way of a rushing enemy. 

“Kamui, come down to change your bandages,” he commands as he barges into her room, forgoing the act of knocking as he does so. 

She doesn’t respond, not because she isn’t there, but because she is asleep. Kamui is curled up on her bed, white hair sprawled around her head like clouds. Takumi’s face instantly flushes a violent shade of scarlet when he realizes that her top half is only covered by her chest bindings and the old bandages around her torso; he promptly spins around on one heel and crashes into her doorframe while attempting to flee. 

Kamui shifts at the ruckus, groaning sleepily to herself as her eyes flutter open. As she pushes herself up into a sitting position, she stretches her bare, porcelain arms and yawns. The grey haired boy finds himself unable to forget the slender line of her arms long enough to recall that he was in the process of running away. Her crimson eyes blink away the last remnants of sleep and when they land on him, he feels his heart stop. 

“Takumi!?” the girl immediately squeals, grabbing her blankets and yanking them up over her shoulders. Her pale skin is colored a bright red. “What are you doing here?” 

Takumi tears his eyes away from the mesmerizingly tousled angles of her hair, staring pointedly at the ground as he swallows thickly. He silently prays that his cheeks are not as red as they feel. Kamui doesn’t make a single mention of them, but he can hear her milling about her room, hopefully to throw on a shirt. 

“S-Sakura said you ought to come down to change your bandages soon,” he stutters, mentally cursing himself all the while. The girl hadn’t said anything about Kamui when they returned from battle, too concerned about the presently wounded to make note of her healing sister, but the white lie tumbles out before he can stop himself. 

“Oh?” Kamui chimes, and Takumi risks a glance upward. The girl has thrown a sleeveless tunic over her shoulders, and he can still see the pale scar along her bicep from the weeks old cut she had sustained. She had received that one protecting him, too, he remembers ruefully. Kamui behaved more like an older sibling to him than he ever did as a younger one to her. “But Sakura said she could help me later tonight, since she would be busy for most of today. Did she change her mind?” 

Takumi bites back a grimace. “No,” he blurts, and Kamui tilts her head curiously at him. He clears his throat and inhales a deep breath through his nose. “She had mentioned asking you down at first,” he amends, “But I told her I could help. In exchange for you taking the blow for me, and all.” 

A warm smile blooms on her face at his words; his stomach twists uncomfortably. It’s been doing that a lot recently, especially around the white haired girl, and Takumi doesn’t want to consider the implications of such a reaction. “There’s no need to repay me anything,” Kamui tells him. “We are siblings, after all,” she adds softly, sounding more like a sigh than a statement. 

“Of course; siblings,” he repeats, not even bothering to hide his frown. Her back is turned to him as she walks over to her dresser, grabbing the roll of bandages, a towel, and a waterskin off the top. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she fiddles with the hem of her shirt anxiously. 

“I can probably do this myself, Takumi,” she insists, flashing him a weak smile. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he takes a seat beside her. “Brother,” she begins pleadingly, and he promptly cuts her off. 

“Refusing to accept help from your caring little brother?” he quips, snorting softly as her cheeks flush pink and she averts her eyes. “What a cruel older sister you are, Kamui.” 

She winces at that, a pained look flashing in her crimson eyes. With her head held high, she meets him with an admirably serious face. “You’re right; that was rude of me,” she admits with a self deprecatory chuckle. “I’m really in no position to be refusing help anyway.” Kamui shoves the bandage roll into his hands and promptly proceeds to tug her shirt off her shoulders. Takumi feels his heart stop right then and there; the only thing that keeps him from running out of the room, panting heavily, is her steady gaze on him. 

He knows he is staring as Kamui carefully unwinds the old bandages from around her waist, wincing as she peels the last portion off of a tacky bit of dried blood. Takumi pours a bit of water on the washcloth she had handed him earlier, carefully cleaning the scarlet stains off her skin. Her eyes are on him - he can tell - but keeps his hazel eyes trained forward on the task at hand. She inhales sharply as the cold material touches her skin, but remains still as Takumi dabs the wound clean. 

When the once-clean washcloth is tinted a murky pink, he places it to the side, taking the bandage roll and unfurling the stark white cloth. A set of slim fingers stop him in his tracks, and Takumi raises his eyes to find hers. 

“I can do the rest,” Kamui asserts, tugging the cloth from his hands. Takumi lets go of the material hesitantly, but Kamui’s insistent smile urge him to let her do as she pleases. He leans back on his palms, watching her from the corner of his eyes as she methodically winds the white cloth around her torso. 

The laceration across her torso looked terrible when she first received it; she was bleeding profusely, scarlet running down the side of her thigh, and barely conscious as Silas scrambled to tie his cape around the wound to staunch the bleeding and Hinoka flew her back to camp in a flurry of feathers and wings. Takumi would have demanded to go back with her had Ryouma not demanded that they needed him on the battlefield to make up for the sudden loss of manpower. 

Now, with the skin scabbing over and slowly beginning to repair itself, Kamui looks significantly further away from death’s doorstep. As she nears the end of the cloth strip, the girl twists uncomfortably, trying to tie the bandage off behind her back. Takumi scoffs, flicking her fingers aside and tying the bandage himself. His fingers press gently on the cloth, tracing the soon to be scar along her skin, when she gasps. When he looks up, the grey haired boy finds crimson eyes inches away from his own. 

“I, uh. Thank you, Takumi,” Kamui stammers. She sounds far away, especially when the heat of her breath on his face is much more immediate than her words. His mouth feels oddly dry and he absently licks his lips, following the curve of her neck as she swallows anxiously. When his gaze flickers back up to meet hers, he finds her eyes aimed elsewhere. When he later realizes that she’s looking at his mouth, his breath catches. 

“Kamui,” he begins breathily, “there’s something I need to say.” 

“Okay, sure,” she murmurs distractedly, eyes fluttering shut as she leans forward to press her lips against his without another word. Takumi inhales sharply at the contact, his heart jumping somewhere into his throat, but Kamui just wraps her hands around his neck, angling her mouth closer to his; his shock slips away somewhere between her agile fingers tugging at his hair and own fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her hip, and he closes his eyes, pressing himself flush against her. 

Her lips are everything he never let himself imagine, searingly hot and fitting perfectly against his in a way that is both thrilling and terrifying. When he ghosts his fingers up her spine, she shivers, whimpering softly against his lips. His fingers curl into the ends of her winter-white hair, carefully playing at the silken strands; when she follows his example, tugging away the band that holds his own hair up and threading restless fingers through it, Takumi moans. 

“Marry me,” he mutters against her lips, and Kamui suddenly gasps, pulling back with a start. Her porcelain cheeks are a deep red, pupils still dilated and chest heaving in a way that makes his chest ache. It takes an enormous amount of willpower not to slam their mouths together again, especially with her flickering gaze on his lips, and that terrible tongue running absently across her own. 

“Takumi,” she breathes, pressing her palms against his chest and keeping a distance between them. He brings his hands up to hers, ghosting his thumbs across her knuckles and making her shiver. “We can't be doing this; we're _sib_ —” 

“We're _not_ siblings,” he interrupts, pressing a slender finger to her lips. “We may have tried playing pretend, but we never were.” That finger carefully traces the swell of her lips, leaving tingles in its wake, and Kamui can't help the way she leans into his touch, painfully desperate for his skin on hers. His finger trails along her cheek, tucking errant hairs away and grazing his fingernails against the soft skin behind her ear. 

“But—” 

“No buts,” he murmurs lowly, leaning over her outstretched palms and capturing her lips again. Her hands quickly fall slack, slipping down to rest on the slender length of his hips, and Takumi mentally thanks her lack of restraint. 

She finds herself panting the next time they pull apart. “Okay,” she exhales, the feeling of her breath on his cheeks dizzying. 

“Okay, what?” he mumbles distractedly, too focused on trying to line her jaw with kisses, twirling his fingers into her long hair. 

She holds Takumi by the chin, bringing his gaze back to hers. He never noticed the thin rim of black outlining her irises before. “Okay, I'll marry you,” she whispers, smiling warmly. His eyes widen for the briefest moment, and then they're back to that sultry half-lidded expression, a lazy smirk pulling up at his lips. 

“I knew you couldn't resist me,” he quips, leaning forward again. Kamui stops him with three fingers against his lips. 

“ _You_ have to tell Big Brother Ryouma, though,” she repartees, a sly smile stretching across her face. Takumi grimaces, a flash of annoyance flittering past his eyes. 

“Later,” he decides, moving to tug her fingers away from his mouth. She doesn't budge. 

“ _And_ you have to get me a ring,” Kamui adds primly. Takumi actually rolls his eyes at that, exhaling a sigh through his nose. 

“That can also wait,” he responds, pulling at her fingers a bit harder. She relents this time, letting him press their mouths together again. She smiles into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as she snakes her arms around his back. 

“Stop smiling,” Takumi eventually mutters. Kamui just giggles against his lips, fiddling with the ends of his long hair and pressing herself closer to him. Her smile doesn't fade, but he doesn't comment on it again. 

_Takumi and Kamui have attained support rank S._

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the biggest thing my beta and I got out of this huge mess was "protect Silas 2k16". But that's okay.


End file.
